It is Always Sexual Harassment

Powering my rage -

I am walking down the street,

Summer evening light,

Still warm

Dozy, disgusting, disheveled

From the day and the drive,

And I hear



Dangerous, disgusting, disheveled,

Wondering why I can’t be

Walking down the street

And just left alone.

Keys splayed between my fingers

-Like I was taught-

Imagining that’s how you would splay



And You

Between it

Like my keys.

Ready to stab into something.

(My body

No – my keys –)

But the words “my body” matter

As little to You

As “my keys”

Matter to a robber.

You are here to steal something from me

Because you are a criminal either way.


Dignified, disgusting, disheveled

I rage.

It doesn’t matter what I look like -

Disgusting, disheveled, ditzy, darling, delicious, dizzy, drunk -

It happens always.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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